


You Never Know

by 2012bookworm



Series: Drive All Night [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-19 00:03:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11301597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2012bookworm/pseuds/2012bookworm
Summary: When Will answers the phone, expecting Nursey, he gets a shaky-sounding woman instead.





	You Never Know

**Author's Note:**

> See end notes for any minor warnings.

Will has just finished sorting the day’s lobster catch when his cellphone rings. He yanks a glove off, fumbles the thing out of his pocket, and glances down just long enough to see that it’s Nursey calling before he answers.

“Hey, Nurse. What’s up?” He mouths ‘done’ at his uncle, using his arm and side to pull off his remaining glove, and wanders up to the bow of the ship, out of the way.

“Hello, is this, er, Dex?” Will stops. That’s a woman’s voice, and she sounds hesitant and shaky. His gut starts churning.

“Yeah, that’s me. Uh, who’s this?” He tries to think of not terrible reasons why someone else would have Nursey’s phone. Maybe he lost it? Or this is this some kind of prank? 

“My name’s Sarah, uh Sarah Green, and uh, there was an accident –“ Will feels his adrenaline spike, and after a moment of immobility he turns, grabs his uncle, points at his phone, mouths ‘emergency’, and walks off the boat onto the dock, fishing out his keys as he goes. All the while the woman is saying something about how he was the first listed emergency contact. “- so I thought I’d call. Are you a relative?”

“No. I’m his, um – we’re friends.” Will takes a deep breath, asks the important question. “What happened?”

“I’m, I’m not really sure, I didn’t see it, just heard the crash, and then your friend was lying there, but then he woke up and I told him not to move and he gave me his phone and said to call the police and I did and then an ambulance showed up and he passed out when they moved him and I accidently kept his phone and oh god –“

Will wrenches open his car door and reminds himself that yelling at this woman won’t be helpful, no matter how much he wants to scream at something. “Do you know where they took him?”

She hesitates. Will’s hand clenches into a fist. “Um, Mt. Sinai hospital, I think? I’m sorry, I don’t -”

“It’s fine.” He closes his eyes, turns his keys in the ignition. “Thank you – thank you for calling me.”

“Do you…Is there anyone else I should call? Anything I can do?” She sounds lost, and Will finds himself automatically reassuring her as he shifts out of park and starts driving. 

“I’ve got it, don’t worry. Just, would you mind holding on to that phone for a day or so?” He figures a task might be good. Apparently he was right, because she gives him a slightly less shaky affirmation and hangs up. He breathes, puts down the phone and, starts thinking through his next steps. First, he needs to call Shitty, who is the person most likely to know how to get in touch with Nursey’s parents. And probably the closest to New York. Then he’ll take a quick shower so he doesn’t smell like sweat and fish, explain things to his parents, throw things in a bag, and head for New York. He picks his phone back up. It’s several rings and some mumbled curses before Shitty answers.

“Dex, my man, how-“ His voice is light, teasing, a little confused. 

Will cuts him off. “Shits, Nursey’s been in an accident. Do you know how to get in touch with his parents?”

Shitty takes in a short, sharp breath, and his next words come out deathly serious. “What happened?”

“I don’t – I’m not – I don’t know.” Dex grips the steering wheel harder. “Someone just called me, said she was there, Nursey gave her his phone and I’m the first emergency contact so she thought I should know, but I’m in fucking Maine right now, and can’t…” Breathe, Will, he reminds himself, “She said they took him to the hospital, she thinks Mt. Sinai but… Shits, it’s gonna take me at least seven hours to get there, maybe even eight, can you – ”

“I’m grabbing my keys now. I can be there in four hours.”

Will forces his fingers to unclench. “Thanks. His parents – “

“I got it. If I don’t have the number somewhere, Lardo does.” Will hears a door slam. 

“I’ll call Bitty, he can tell the rest of the team.” Another task, the next step to keep the panic from overwhelming him. “Thanks Shitty.”

“Not a problem. I’ll call you as soon as I get any news.” There’s a pause. “Drive safe, ok? One accident’s enough.” 

“You too. Stay safe.” Will says. Shitty hangs up. 

Paused at a stoplight, he lets his eyes close. It’ll be ok. Nursey was awake, at least for a while, and Shitty’s on his way. He just needs to focus, take it one step at a time. He calls Bitty, who makes exclamations of distress and promises to call the rest of the team. He offers to send Jack down. Will tells him no. He does consider it, but Providence isn’t that much closer than Boston, and while Will knows Jack’s currently in the off-season and could go, there’s no real reason for him to do so, not with Shitty already on his way. And Nursey and Jack are friendly, but not close enough to warrant Jack dropping everything, even if Will knows he probably would. Besides, he feels reluctant to place this on others, to ask for any more help than he needs. 

He gets out a quick explanation to his mom in between the fastest shower he’s ever taken and throwing three days worth of clothes and his phone charger into a backpack, and she hugs him and tells him to call her when he gets there. Less than thirty minutes after that first phone call he’s punching Mt. Sinai hospital into his GPS, which means it’ll be at least three and a half hours, at the earliest, before Shitty calls with any sort of news. Which means he has that much time to do nothing but worry. He wonders if he’s overreacting, hopes he is, honestly, but the girl had sounded freaked, and it had been bad enough that an ambulance was involved. He tries turning up the radio, but he can’t slip into the music like he normally does on a long drive, his body buzzing with adrenaline that lacks any sort of outlet. He feels like he does in the final period of a game, but without the push and strain of his muscles to keep the burn under control. He almost regrets telling Bitty to call everyone – at least that would give him something to do besides think.

Instead, his mind keep replaying memories of Nursey – Nursey grinning at Hazeapalooza, pounding him on the back after an assist, curled up on Chowder’s bed with that shark plushie, tripping over chair legs and kitchen tiles and sidewalk cracks, sitting, still and focused, in any of a dozen places, a book in his hand and a pen between his lips, moments remarkable and inane.

He thinks of those lips, forceful, almost bruising, Nursey’s body under his hands, the way it had been both hesitant and easy, two bodies that knew each other, but not like this, not skin on skin, not sure yet where it was good to touch.

His mind gave him an image of that same body, broken, and he flinched from it.

His phone rang, pulling him out of his own head, and he was so fucking grateful he could cry. “Hey, Chowder.”

“Dex! Bitty just called me. Are you all right?” He sounds worried and soothing all at once, and Will sighs in relief.

God bless Chris Chow.

“Yeah, it’s – I’m fine.” Will says.

“Dex…” Chowder starts, trailing off unhappily.

“I can’t do anything until I get there, and I won’t know anything until Shitty gets there, so I’m fine, ok?” Will recognizes the note of pleading in his own voice; he’s not sure if Chowder will catch it.

He does, because Chowder can be surprisingly perceptive when he needs to be. “Ok. Is… is there anything I can do?”

Will hesitates, but he doesn’t want to go back to the silence of his own head, doesn’t want the constant replay of memory twisting into nightmare. “Talk to me? Just… how’s your summer been?”

“Um, ok.” Chowder sounds unsure, but he takes a breath and launches into a monologue. “Well, Caitlin had the day off yesterday – I told you she’s doing that internship, right? She loves it – and I did too, so we went to the beach, which was fun, and oh! There was this place that sold weird flavored popsicles, like popcorn flavored and stuff, so we tried the bacon one and the lavender one and they were really good and then…”

He keeps chattering, story leading to funny anecdote leading back to the original story. Will breathes, in and out, and lets it wash over him, lets the sound of Chowder’s voice talking about ordinary things calm him, the miles ticking by just a little faster.

***

Chowder stays on the phone with him for the entire three hours and forty-five minutes it takes for Shitty to call. Having run out of other topics, he spends the whole last hour talking about the Sharks, seemingly without pausing for breath. Will’s never been so grateful for Chowder’s obsession.

“Hey, Chowder,” He interrupts when his phone rings with a second incoming call, “Shitty’s calling. I’ve got to go.”

“Of course.” Chowder says, easy, as if what he’s been doing was nothing, as if he hasn’t been helping Will hold it together for hundreds of miles of blacktop. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do, ok?”

Will’s voice comes out hoarse. “Thank you. Really. I’ll call if there’s news.” He switches over to Shitty’s call. “Hello?”

“Hey. I’m at the hospital. The girl was right, they took him to Mt. Sinai.” Shitty pauses. “He’s in surgery right now.”

“It’s that bad?” Will presses harder on the gas petal.

“I don’t know. They wouldn’t tell me much. The lady at the desk did say nothing appeared to be life-threatening.” There’s a brief, worried silence. “I tried calling his mom, couldn’t get her. She travels a lot, maybe it’s the wrong time zone or she’s in a meeting or something. I left a message.”

“I think…” Will swallows. “Derek said his mom was overseas most of the summer. It – it may take a while for her to get back.”

“Yeah. We’ll hold down the fort until she does.” The pause this time is contemplative. “Derek, huh?”

“Shitty – “ Will’s voice comes out choked. He’s not sure if it’s with panic or tears. Shitty knows, or thinks he does, and Will – “I can’t. Not right now. I can’t talk about this now.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Shitty’s voice is calm, trying to be soothing. It comes out worried instead. “It’s ok. You don’t have to, I’ll drop it.”

“Call me if you find out anything else.” He manages to gasp out before hanging up the phone. He cannot break down, not now, not here, he does not have time to pull over and cry on the side of the highway. He breathes, gulping breaths that rasp through his throat, but it helps, and after a few more minutes of struggle he pulls it together, stuffs everything down somewhere and refuses to think about it. He glances down at the speedometer and sees he’s going close to a hundred. He swears and takes his foot off the gas, then yells a few more swear words just for good measure. He can’t cry, but he can scream, up until the point where yelling feels like any moment it could turn to tears. He glances over at the GPS and laughs when he realizes he’s barely halfway there. 

It shouldn’t matter, because he and Derek – Nursey – aren’t like that, not really. They’ve been talking, more than they normally would over the summer, yes, but anything more is a bad idea. They agreed. They’re already teammates, friends, soon-to-be roommates, and some days the peace between them seems so fragile. As friends, the fights are ok, even enjoyable. As…. whatever they would be, Will’s worried the same fights could destroy them, or worse, destroy the team. So they’d agreed that it was a mistake that wouldn’t happen again, that being friends was enough, despite the way Will watches Derek’s mouth, the way Nursey keeps reaching out to touch. And now Will’s left in this limbo, with a hurt friend who could be more, who a big part of him wants to be more, with nothing to claim and everything to lose.

It’ll be ok, he chants to himself, he’ll be ok.

***

It’s close to midnight by the time he gets to the hospital. He asks at the ER about Derek Nurse and is led to a small waiting room where Shitty’s curled up in one of the chairs. It takes Will a moment to recognize him, hair short, in a nice suit with a book. Shitty looks up, sees him, and Will finds himself immediately engulfed in a hug. He stiffens, but finds himself relaxing into the grip, his hands coming up to clutch at the back of Shitty’s jacket. He takes a deep breath and pulls away before he breaks down.

“Anything new?”

Shitty shakes his head. “They said they’d tell me when he was out of surgery. Come on, sit down brah, you look exhausted.”

“Long day.” Will laughs, short and jagged. “Long fucking day.”

He lets Shitty lead him to a chair, and doesn’t protest when his head ends up on Will’s shoulder. Shitty’s day has been just as long, he’s been waiting here alone, and tactile comfort is something Will can give, will gladly give.

They wait. It feels like forever, and maybe Will was wrong about who exactly the tactile comfort thing was for, because he’s pretty sure it’s only Shitty’s head on his shoulder that keeps him from getting up and pacing the waiting room. Will calls his mom like he said he would. They wait some more, and don’t talk, and Shitty’s nodding off against him by the time someone enters with news. The guy’s wearing dark blue scrubs and a white coat, and he looks tired, brown hair mussed and circles under his eyes. He asks for the family of Derek Nurse.

“That’s us.” Will says, nudging Shitty off of his shoulder as he stands.

“Hi, Dr. Brad Overton.” He holds his hand out to shake. Will accepts. “You are?”

“Will Poindexter. I’m his, um, partner.” It’s not really a lie. They are partners, just not the kind this guy’s going to assume. “Is…Is he ok?”

The doctor – Will’s just going to go with doctor – gives him a tired smile. “Barring any unforeseen complications, he’ll be fine.”

Will shudders out a breath and manages not to sag. Shitty puts a hand on his shoulder, gripping hard. The doctor gives them a moment before he continues. “He’s got a broken wrist, cracked ribs, some minor internal bleeding we had to fix, and a lot of cuts, scrapes, and bruises. Luckily, he appears to have avoided a concussion, though we will confirm that once he wakes up from anesthesia. He’ll be in the hospital for another few days, and bed rest for at least a week after that, but total recovery should be possible within eight weeks.”

“Good,” Will forces out. Internal bleeding, he thinks, fuck. “That’s… that’s good.”

“Can we see him?” Shitty asks after it becomes obvious Will isn’t going to be able to say anything else.

And yes. Yes, that’s what Will needs, to actually see Nursey, have him real and solid under his hands.

“Right now, he’s in recovery,” The doctor tells them, “But once the anesthesia wears off you can visit for a few minutes.” 

“Will someone come and tell us when that happens?” Shitty asks. Will’s still can’t seem to make words come out of his mouth. 

The doctor nods. “Of course. Now, we’ll discuss medications and proper wound care procedure once Mr. Nurse gets closer to discharge, but if you have any other questions, feel free to ask. Otherwise, I’d better get back to my rounds.”

“No, not right now. Thank you.” Shitty says. 

The doctor smiles that same tired smile. “If that changes, feel free to ask for me at the nurse’s station. Dr. Overton.”

He leaves. Will manages a belated thanks as Shitty leads him back to the chairs. “Dude, sit down before you collapse.”

Will sits. Shitty sinks down to his heels in front of him and puts both hands on his shoulders. Will keeps reminding himself that everything’s ok, that Nursey’s ok, that he’ll heal, that there’s no need to freak out, that, just this once, he needs to chill. Shitty’s looking at him all concerned, and one hand slips down to Will’s arm and squeezes, not hard, just a reminder. Will takes a deep breath, stuffs everything back down again. Nursey’s fine.

“I need to call Chowder.” He mutters, trying to focus once again on the practical, on a task he can accomplish, something to do while he waits, again, he’s so tired of waiting.

Shitty narrows his eyes. “Are you sure you’re ok to do that?”

“Yeah,” Will says, not sure if he’s lying. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Shitty stares for another moment, but eventually nods and releases him, ruffling Will’s hair as he stands. “I’m going to call Bitty and Lardo, find some coffee. I’ll be right back. You want some?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Will’s been ignoring how tired he is, easy when he was so wired he could barely keep still, but now the mere mention of coffee reminds him of his gritty eyes and achy body, that he’s been up since six and worked nearly a full shift on the boat before driving over seven hours.

Shitty starts to turn, hesitates, and ends up pulling Will into a hug. It’s really awkward, Will still sitting in the chair and forcing Shitty to bend down and lean over his knees just to pull in his upper half, but that’s good. He can feel his walls cracking from just this. A real hug would leave him in tatters, and he can’t break down, not in public, and not now, not when he still has to see Nursey. It’s only a few seconds before Shitty lets him go and walks away. He closes his eyes, breathes. Focus, Will. He fishes his phone out of his pocket and dials.

Chowder picks up on the second ring. “Dex? Have you heard anything?”

He sounds so worried, and fuck, this should not be so hard. “He’s ok, Chowder. Well, he’ll be ok.”

There’s a very relieved sigh across the phone line. “Thank god. You’ve seen him? How is he?”

“No, no, I haven’t seen him yet,” And that’s the problem isn’t it? He won’t be able to believe it until he can see it, touch it, make sure it’s real. “But the doctor said we could, in a little while. It – it sounds like he got kind of messed up, C.”

“But he’ll be fine?” Chowder asks, anxious and small.

“Yeah, nothing – nothing permanent, it sounds like, ‘cept maybe some scars.”

“That’s good.” There’s a pause, Chowder trying to decide if he wants to ask. “How bad?”

“Broken wrist and cracked ribs, lots of scratches and bruises, they said, and, um,” Will clutches the phone tighter, forces it out. “Some internal bleeding.” There’s silence from the other end of the line. Will swallows. “The doctor said it was minor.”

“Dex…” Chowder sounds so sad, and Will can’t bear it.

“It’ll be ok, C. He… he’ll probably be on the bench for a chunk of preseason, but he’s supposed to be all healed up in eight weeks, and – and everything will be fine.” Will can hear the desperation in his own voice, and he knows, he knows, there’s no reason to be freaking out, but it doesn’t change the fact that he sort of is.

“Dex.” Chowder says, and this time his voice has gone all gentle. “It’ll be ok. He’ll be ok.”

“I know.” He whispers, and then just sits there, staring down at his jeans, at the off-white linoleum beneath his sneakers, listening to Chowder breathe, listening to his own breath, and tries to think what else there is to say.

It’s Chowder who finally breaks the silence. “Hey, when you see him, will you tell him I’m glad he’s all right? And that… that I’d be there if I could?”

“Yeah.” Will shakes himself, rubs a hand over his face. “Yeah, I will. Maybe, um, maybe if he’s up to it we’ll Skype you or something, let you see his face.”

“That’d be great, if you can.” Chowder stops. “Do… do you want me to stay on the phone with you? I can.”

Will shakes his head before remembering Chowder can’t see him. “No, no man. You’re good. Just, wanted to give you an update.”

“Ok then. Thanks.” Chowder takes a deep breath, and his voice comes out hesitant. “Dex? Love you.”

Will chokes, covers his mouth with one hand. He manages, barely, to rasp out, “Love you too, C,” Before he hangs up and starts to sob, dry, heaving gasps that he muffles with his hand, struggling to control himself.

He doesn’t notice Shitty’s there until someone touches the top of his bowed back. He flinches away, instinctive, and opens his eyes to a pair of scuffed dress shoes framing his own sneakers. Shitty starts to move away, willing to give him some privacy, but Will snatches at him, catches the sleeve of his dress shirt, not sure what he wants beyond not alone. Shitty grabs his hand, squeezes, and lets go before grabbing one of the two cups of coffee balanced on the chair’s armrest and sitting down on the floor, leaning up against Will’s knee, one hand resting on his foot.

Will manages after a while, to calm down. He grabs the other cup, cheap paper without a lid, and gulps down the burnt coffee. It’s sweeter than he normally drinks it, but the warmth feels good, reassuring against hands. He wonders how much he should explain. It’s easier like this, not having to meet anyone’s eyes, the contact of Shitty’s side against his leg encouraging but not intimate, an offer instead of a demand. He stares fixedly at the row of cloth-covered chairs in front of him, and wonders, absently, if all hospitals get their ugly waiting room chairs from the same place. Only once all the coffee’s gone does he start talking. 

“We hooked up, this past spring, me and Nursey, after the kegster Ransom and Holster threw when we got kicked out of the playoffs. We were drunk, maybe too drunk, and no, I don’t need the informed consent lecture right now.” The last phrase comes out harsher than he means but Shitty doesn’t say anything in response, just takes a sip of his coffee and keeps staring ahead. “So, yeah, it was stupid, and we knew it, but it felt so good and we wanted it. Wanted it bad. We woke up in the morning, and…” Will laughs, hollow and sharp, remembering those few warm blissful moments before he remembered that this was something he couldn’t have. “Well, we agreed it was a mistake. Doesn’t mean I’ve stopped thinking about it.”

“Is it the teammate thing?” Shitty asks after a stretched silence, and Will looks down to find him fiddling with Will’s shoelaces. 

Will sighs. “The teammate thing, the roommate thing, the constantly fighting thing, take your pick.”

“Oh, yeah, you’re sharing Lardo’s room next year. I forgot.” Shitty leans more heavily against Will’s leg. “I see how that could be an issue.”

“We couldn’t risk a relationship, and I’m – I’m not the casual hook-up type, especially not with – with Derek.” Will confesses.

Shitty chuckles, soft. “Derek. You really do like him.”

“We’ve been talking a lot, over break.” Will admits. Almost every night, talking and joking and bickering and having one whispered screaming match because they were both pissed but it was late and Will was trying not to wake up anyone else in the house. “Doesn’t mean anything.”

“Do you really think –“ Shitty starts, only to be interrupted by the buzz of his phone. “Hello? Oh, hi Ms. Nurse! Yes, it’s me, I’m, um, well, there’s been an accident –, no, no, Derek’s ok, he’s just in the hospital – yes ma’am, but – no, the doctor said he’d be fine – well, we’re not sure, a friend called me, someone called him – yes, we’re waiting to see him right now. Ok, I’ll tell him. Yes ma’am. Of course.” Shitty let the hand holding the phone drop with a sigh. “That was Nursey’s mom.”

“I got that.” Will said dryly. If the name hadn’t been a giveaway, the bright politeness in Shitty’s voice would have told him who it was.

“Yeah. Apparently she’s in Tokyo, but she’ll be back as soon as possible.” Shitty slides his phone back into his pocket. “We’re to take care of Nursey until she gets here. Or else.”

“She sounds vaguely terrifying.”

Shitty nods emphatically. “Oh, she is. Like Lardo at her most efficient, but in a killer pantsuit. With heels.”

Will raises his eyebrows. “How’d she end up with Nursey?”

“One of the mysteries of the world, brah.” Shitty says sagely. “But they get along pretty well.”

“She sent him a Valentine’s day card.” Will pauses, considering. “I think it had dinosaurs on it.”

Shitty hums at that, and they fall quiet. Will’s glad for the call, if only because it distracted Shitty pretty well from his confession. He’s tired, and his outburst didn’t help – if anything, it made it worse – and he’s got no emotional energy left to spend on talking about his confusing feelings for Nursey. The adrenaline’s disappeared too, the tension that had been thrumming through his muscles since he first got the call subsumed by weariness. Shitty’s now attempting to tie and untie his shoe one-handed. Will reaches for his phone to check the time, realizes it isn’t in his pocket, and spends a few moments searching before he finds it wedged in the gap between the chairs. By that point, he’s forgotten why he was looking for his phone in the first place and just sticks it back in his pocket with a sigh. They wait. 

Finally, someone comes to lead them back to Nursey. They walk down never-ending hallways, turning when the nurse does, left, then right, then right again, and end up in front of a door an off-white door marked with the number 327.

“Your friend’s lucky, he ended up in one of the private rooms.” She tells them. “Now, he’s still pretty groggy, and he’s on quite a few pain meds, so don’t worry if he falls back asleep halfway through a sentence or anything. I’ll be back to get you in a bit.”

The nurse opens the door and ushers them inside. Will barely registers it closing behind them, because there’s Nursey, propped up on the bed in a ridiculous pale green hospital gown, his head turning towards them and eyes opening at the noise. He looks washed out, awful, a cast on one wrist and bandages on his shoulder, bicep, and forearms, covered in bruises just starting to fade into purple. His eyes, when Will gets closer, are glassy. There’s an IV running into his hand.

“Dex? Shitty?” He slurs. “What’re you doin’ here?”

“Someone called me.” Will says, unable to stop himself from reaching out to touch, his hand coming to rest lightly on Nursey’s unbroken wrist. “Had to come take care of your dumb ass.”

“But you’re in Maine.” Nursey’s face scrunches like it normally does when he’s confused, and Will ignores the part of his brain that wants to categorize it as adorable, even with the dried sweat along his hairline. 

“Not anymore.” He lets his thumb run up and down Nursey’s forearm, skirting the edge of a bandage. “Now I’m in New York. It sucks, FYI.”

Nursey blinks at him. Shitty chooses that moment to join the conversation. “To be fair, he hasn’t seen much of it. How you feeling, bro?”

“Chill?” He says, half a question. Will refrains from automatically rolling his eyes. “You – you didn’t have to come.”

“Yeah, we did.” Shitty says, putting a hand on his un-bandaged shoulder. 

“Oh.” Nursey breathes. Will feels the fucking tears starting up again at how grateful Nursey looks, and wills them back. “Ok.”

Thankfully, Shitty breaks the moment. “By the way, your mom says she loves you and she’ll be here as soon as she can.”

“But she’s in Japan.” Nursey pauses, thinking. “Right?” 

“Yeah, but we’re here until she gets back.” Will says firmly, trying to soothe the worry in Nursey’s expression that he’s usually so careful to hide. He sees Nursey relax at that statement, or maybe just at the sureness in Will’s voice. “Get some sleep.”

Nursey, eyes already shut, mumbles something that might be an agreement before he’s gone. They watch him, the beep of machines the only sound.

“Fuck.” Will lets out on an explosive breath. He reluctantly removes his hand from Nursey’s wrist, runs it over his face and through his hair. He doesn’t know what comes next, what his next step should be. His goal all night has just been get to Nursey, and now he’s standing next to his hospital bed, drained and helpless, and Nursey hadn’t thought anyone was coming, which sucks and makes Will want to scream or maybe cry. He looks over at Shitty and finds him staring down at the bed, tears starting to slip down his face. “Oh, fuck. Hey, hey, it’s ok, he’ll be ok.”

He pulls Shitty into a hug, lets him sob into his shoulder, muttering reassurances. He berates himself for forgetting that he’s not the only one hurting, that Shitty had spent several hours alone in the hospital before Will even got there, that he’s one of Nursey’s oldest friends, that he’d been just as worried and stressed and tired and had been dealing with all of Will’s shit on top of that. 

He stops crying after a minute or two, and pulls away only to wipe his eyes and nose on his sleeve. Will gives him a look. “Shits, that’s disgusting. I’m sure we could find you a Kleenex somewhere.”

“Don’t care.” Shitty’s voice comes out thicker than normal, and he snuffles a bit before speaking again. “Done worse. So have you.”

“In a locker room, not a hospital.” Will points out. They stand there, glancing back over at the bed every few seconds, while Shitty sniffs a bit more and rubs at his eyes “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Shitty looks honestly confused. Will gives in and hugs him again.

Finally, he pulls away, takes a step back. This’ll be easier if they’re not in each other’s personal space. “For not paying attention and forcing you to deal with all my crap on top of everything else. I… it wasn’t fair, and I’m sorry.”

Shitty stares at him. Will ducks his head, feeling the shame start to heat his cheeks. “Bro. Dex. You don’t have anything to apologize for. That’s how this works. I’m there when you can’t handle it anymore, and you do the same thing for me. The only reason you’d need to apologize is if you’d seen my waterworks and run away. We cant… we can’t be strong all the time, you know? So you surround yourself with people who’ll help pick up the slack. I mean, I spent most of the time before you got here with Lardo sending me pictures of cats. And dogs who look like hockey players.”

Will laughs, small but real. “Chowder spent forever on the phone with me when I was driving down.”

“You see? We’ve got each other’s backs. So don’t apologize.” He claps Will on the shoulder, before smiling, a smaller, wobblier version of his normal shit-eating grin. “Besides, you telling me means for once I’ll know something before Lardo.”

Will smiles back. Shitty slings an arm around his neck and pulls him into a noogie. Will half-heartedly swats his hand away, but Shitty doesn’t let go. They end up staring back at the bed, Shitty’s arm still crooked around Will’s neck, now an embrace rather than a headlock. Nursey shivers, and Will reaches out and pulls the blanket up higher. 

“He didn’t think anybody was coming, Shits.”

Shitty smiles, smoothes Nursey’s hair back. “But we did. He just… he forgets sometimes that he doesn’t have to do it all alone. And, well, if that girl hadn’t called you, who would have known?”

Will refuses to think about that possibility, refuses to imagine hearing about this a week from now when Nursey casually brought it up over the group chat, an ‘oh by the way’ sort of anecdote. His fists clench. “She did though. She called.”

Shitty’s arm tightens around him. “Yeah. And we’re here. We’ve got his back. We’ll make sure he’s ok. And next time, he’ll know he can call.”

“There’s not going to be a next time.” Will mutters, but he lets the truth of what Shitty’s said wash over him, that they’re here, and Nursey’s going to be ok, and there are people who care. Soon, he’ll have to figure out someplace to go for the night, what’s left of it, since he’s pretty sure they won’t let him stay in this room, and figure out exactly what happened, and call his uncle to get time off, and go track down the girl with Nursey’s phone, and a hundred other things that he hasn’t even thought of yet, but for now he lets himself just stand there, Shitty’s arm around him, and watches Nursey breathe.

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Nursey ends up in the hospital after an accident. Cue worry and panic from everyone else.


End file.
